


The Loss

by etherian



Category: Original Work
Genre: Depressing, Gen, Grief, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 20:37:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherian/pseuds/etherian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Jayne d'Arcy 2-1-14</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Loss

He wept.

As the rain poured down to drown the garden, and the thunder shook the world, he bowed his head, covered his eyes with his hands, and silently let go of his tears.

There was nothing left. Monetarily it had been taken by creditors, and bankers, and people he had never known. Did the gold matter? The silverware? The jewelry that he had given… to HER.

It was she who mattered. Her of the long hair of silken sunlight. Her smile, and her laughter. The sparkle in her eyes that matched the heavenly sky above.

During the day her touch had been shy, thoughtful, and depending on the company, properly hesitant. At night, when all were asleep, and the covers secreted them both her touch was sure, bold, and endlessly tempting!

Yet, not even that could hold a candle to her kisses. Shy during courtship, the moment they both knew they were each other’s her kisses were confident, sure, and oh so passionate. When she kissed him, his soul burned with delightfully, wicked thoughts that he remembered in the hours of night.

The illness had not been expected. Of course, when was illness ever to be counted upon? Even so, an evil wind had come to the estate, and settled upon her like an impenetrable shroud.

He had sent for doctors near and far, and each had left with polite words dry in their mouths and a sad shaking of their hoary heads. He had borne it all, instructions and medicaments that were as useless as the prayers of the priest of the parish.

By her side he had sat for hours on end. His own prayers had been to God, gods, saints, and even _Old Nick_ himself. None were answered.

Each day her breathing became softer, yet harder. Her glorious hair that had been as bright as the sun dulled to tarnish. Her gentle, blue eyes became tired, and glazed with unvoiced pain. Her skin that had once been as rosy, and smooth as the porcelain from China, had become transparent, pale, and brittle.

And touch! He no longer could touch her for he could see the pain that arced in her eyes fro the softest of his touches.

Then, one very early morning there was one last smile for him alone. There was all her love, but it was bitter, too, for she did not want to leave. A sigh took her away, and as if mocking the sun shone down, warm and bright, and the sky was as blue, and as cloudless as it had ever been.

She was gone.

There was nothing to be said, to be wished for, to be hoped. And so…

He wept.

 


End file.
